


Colourless

by EnraptureEnchanted



Series: as long as you are here with me [2]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Absent Parents, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Mortal, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Five Stages of Grief, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Parent Death, Sad with a Happy Ending, be warned, idk how to tag, may add more tags as i go, this may hit too close to home
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29735706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnraptureEnchanted/pseuds/EnraptureEnchanted
Summary: Annabeth is used to a more complex state of mind.Emotions? She hates that. It's too difficult to understand, especially when it is her own.orHigh-School AUIn which Annabeth deals with having absent parents while navigating the ferocious waters of grief.Fortunately she has people that are willing to become her anchor.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase & Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase & Piper McLean, Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Calypso & Annabeth Chase (Percy Jackson)
Series: as long as you are here with me [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2175000
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	1. 1. Never said Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Please make sure to check tags before reading.  
> This fic may contain sensitive topics that could be potentially triggering.
> 
> With that note, happy reading!

Death is strange.

That was Annabeth's first thought the day she stepped out of her father's rental car, dressed in a pleated black skirt and blouse. She wore a sunhat over her blond curls, all bundled up into a fishnet bun. They were at the church parking lot. As she watched the swarm of people in black approaching the building, she tried to remember the last time she visited the place.

She never had, had she? Annabeth wasn't raised religiously by her father, so she never really had a tie to one. She thinks the only times she ever really prayed was at school when her friends or teachers dragged her into it. So being at a church was weird. Walking into the building gave her a strange, uneasy feeling. Like she was trespassing. Like she didn't belong.

As if the universe was telling her how it was all _too late_.

Death is strange, she thought again. How can you be done with life, but everyone else have to deal with the aftermath? Watching everyone bustling around to take their seats, all with handkerchiefs or tissues in their hands, she knew it'd leave an invisible mark. It might even scar, Annabeth figured.

Her father led her to the front of the building, taking their seats at the first row. Oddly enough, the seats had their names on it. Annabeth never thought you could reserve seats at a funeral like RSVPing for a wedding. Roberta, her father's fiancé, told them to go on ahead and take their time while she looked for a seat at the back. She tried to give Annabeth a hug - one the girl slid right out of before the woman's arms could wrap around her. She settled with a shoulder squeeze before departing, whispering something to Dr. Chase as she passed him. Annabeth assumed it was condolences, based on the way her father's eyes turned sad and gave her a wistful look.

The ceremony took a while to start. They've arrived too early, Annabeth thought. Or people were just not arriving yet. They took a plane to get there in time, so she supposed some

"You can hold my hand." Her father told her. She gave him a weird look. The professor wasn't usually one to initiate any kind of physical contact. He was quite reserved that way. The same couldn't be said for Annabeth - she grew up craving hugs so much she was deemed a hugger throughout kindergarten and primary school. She wasn't particularly a warm person however, and had grown out of such childish innocence and naivety. At least, she wasn't one so easily startled by sudden touch. She just never minded offering or accepting it.

"Will I get to see her?" She responded instead, unsure if her father could be comfortable with holding his teenage daughter's hand. They were never that close in the first place. Instead, she rested her arm next to her father's, only lightly brushing his sleeves.

He didn't respond. When she looked at him, drumming her fingers on his arm for a response, he simply gave her a curt nod.

"They'll open the casket."

"Don't they usually keep it open for a while?" Annabeth hoped her question wasn't stupid. She'd never been to an actual funeral, after all.

"That's not what Noctua wanted."

She didn't dare ask how he knew that. It must've been in the will or something.

After about a half hour of waiting, Annabeth slipped out of her seat and excused herself to use the restroom. When she reached it, she saw her soon-to-be stepmother standing waiting inside for an empty stall. Preferring to avoid a confrontation with her, she turned away and made her way to the church entrance instead. Several people were talking outside, a few dabbing at their eyes in an attempt to rid of the few tears they shed.

She wondered if she'll cry today.

It was too nice a day for a funeral. She actually found herself wishing for it to rain, because it just didn't feel fair to spend the day burying someone when the weather was perfectly pleasant to do anything else. Annabeth found herself walking a ways away from the church and sat herself on a bench outside, away from the chattering people and minimal crying. But it had just started, and it was slowly kicking in. Maybe there would be more tears soon.

"Hi." A soft voice greeted her. Annabeth looked up to see a tall, caramel haired girl standing in front of her. Her hair was styled into a delicately braided bun, making Annabeth self-conscious of the fact that she merely stuffed her locks into a messy net. The girl looked to be about her age, dressed in a simple black dress, leggings and, comfortingly, black loafers. Maybe it wasn't out of style after all. She was definitely bragging about this to her friend Piper once she sees her at school the next day.

"Hello." Annabeth said, moving further to the side to make room on the bench.

The girl seemed to feel the need to ask for permission anyway, despite Annabeth's obvious invitation. "May I sit with you?"

"Sure. It's not my bench after all."

She smoothed the back of her skirt before she sat. "I'm Callie." The girl introduced herself, holding a hand out awkwardly. Annabeth shook it.

"Annabeth." She responded. She tried a smile. It probably came out crooked. "Do I look too lonely or something?"

"Um." Callie laughed lightly. "A little bit. Since it's a funeral, and I don't see anyone else our age so far, I thought you could use some company." She smoothed her perfectly unwrinkled skirt for something to do. "And I thought you looked a little sad."

"I'm fine. I don't actually know her, so."

"Oh. Me too." She looked relieved.

"Then why are you here?" Annabeth said before she could stop herself. She hoped she didn't sound too harsh.

"My dad knew her." Callie responded kindly. "I thought I'd be here for him. None of my sisters could come, and this was so sudden."

"You have no idea." Annabeth muttered. Seeing Callie's confused look, she rushed her response. "I heard the news around 4 in the morning. We flew here."

"Who's she to you?" It was a genuine question, and Annabeth was sure the girl didn't mean anything by it, but it angered her to an extent. She wasn't sure why. It felt like an unfair, unjustified question.

She shouldn't have to second-guess her answer. But the answer she had in mind felt like a lie.

So she settled with, "My dad knew her too." If this girl asks to sit with her during the ceremony, Annabeth would have no excuse as to why she had reserved seats.

Fortunately for her, Callie only nodded, accepting her answer. "I should go find my father." She said, standing up. "I'll be sticking around till the end so, um, if you need a friend... I'll be around?" She smiled, gentle and inviting. Annabeth almost wanted to ask if she could go with her now.

"Thanks." She said instead. Callie lingered for a moment, then she nodded and waved, making her way into the church. It took Annabeth a full minute to realize that she should've waved back.

* * *

The ceremony started over an hour later. Annabeth didn't understand most of what went down. There was an eulogy, funeral hymns and readings. There was a large white screen at the far back, and Annabeth found herself hoping for a screening of pictures and videos. Sadly, there were none. She figured it was because no one had any to share, or was just not willing to. The funeral was broadcasted however, because apparently there were people that could not be there in person that still wanted to attend.

When the casket was finally opened, Dr. Chase stood up first. He stiffly held out a hand to his daughter, one she gratefully took. Annabeth didn't want to admit it, but she was genuinely scared to see. Because once she did, it will all be real.

_She'll really be gone._

There were standing at the head of the casket before she even realized they'd walked the distance to it.

"You have her eyes." Her father told her as he pulled her closer to him. She hung her head at the comment. Now she would never know for sure.

Annabeth wished she could see her eyes. She felt a sharp pang of regret - if she'd gotten to see her sooner, before she died, then she might've gotten a chance to see the life the slumbering stranger used to hold. Then maybe, she'd get to see if her father had been right all this time about her stormy eyes being identical to the woman she was supposed to call her mother. Even in death, the woman looked peaceful. She wore a long, sleeveless pure white tunic. Her hair was left flowing in long wispy black waves, framing her face beautifully.

Annabeth willed her tears away. She wasn't about to cry for a stranger.

Burial was quick, and the memorial service was held in a mini-manor that was about three times the size of Annabeth's home. When they entered, the walls were filled with paintings of ancient buildings from all over the world, from a very detailed realistic painting of Atlantis to one picture of Stonehenge that looked so real and was so huge Annabeth felt she could walk right through it. When the walls were not lined with paintings, bookcases filled the space. She didn't think it was appropriate to browse, but judging by the yards of bookcases that filled up to the third floor, Annabeth felt like she'd be able to find any book she could think of.

She had a feeling she would've gotten along with the woman, had she been given the chance.

She wanted to ask who created the artwork they all had the pleasure of seeing. When she looked around, she couldn't see anyone that looked kind enough to answer her question. Everyone held stoic, emotionless looks, and she had to ask herself if her supposed mother ever loved or formed any type of relationships with anyone else, because during the entire service - no one cried.

So she did.

Callie found her sitting on the toilet, completely by coincidence. They hung out together for the rest of the service, both girls exchanging few words. Annabeth grabbed a drink for herself and her new friend at some point so they'd have little reason to talk.

Sometime later during the service, Annabeth found herself going around looking for actual photos. She dragged Callie along, completely without intending to. For a memorial service, there was a surprising lack of photo of the deceased woman. Flowers and letters were left at the foot of treasured paintings instead, much to Annabeth's chagrin. She did find a small picture later on however, placed on a high table in the far corner of one of the more deserted rooms. Few people seemed to have found it, as there was a vase of white orchids and several olives scattered around it. There seemed to be olives everywhere.

She couldn't find any pictures documenting her mother's life. All she got was the one black and white portrait of the woman, placed in an elaborate frame of carved owls. She couldn't tell if the woman's eyes were actually of the same colorless orbs as hers. She knew she shared the same curly hair, albeit of contrasting hues.

Callie studied her face without Annabeth noticing. "You do know her, don't you?" She said carefully.

She placed the picture down, wishing she was crying alone in the bathroom again. "I don't."

Annabeth was called away by her father to the buffet table later on, and she thanked Callie for her company. The girl hugged her tight. Annabeth was ashamed to admit she may have cried a little bit more before ripping herself away from her new friend. She didn't see her friend anymore after that.

They took a flight back home that night. Her father didn't plan on sticking around, and Annabeth agreed she didn't need more time to dwell on what could've been. Roberta kept trying to get her to talk and accept any sort of comfort from her, but Annabeth preferred to be left alone and made it clear - as in plugging her ears with headphones and blasting music to the max volume clear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was originally an angsty 10,000 words one shot I wrote to let loose some steam. I liked it enough to flesh it out some more so here we are. More to come, I've already got most of it written out, only needing some fixing here and there - so lets hope I don't lose interest or procrastinate lol.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. 2. Passing Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reality comes crashing down for Annabeth. Piper reminds her feelings are meant to be felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing too heavy here, though I still feel I need to remind ya'll of the tags and what the fic is about.  
> I'll give a warning in notes if any of the chapters start getting really serious. But yeah, tags.   
> I often make the mistake of never checking tags and warnings first so please don't do the same mistake and trigger yourself :( 
> 
> Anyway, it's only just beginning. *cracks knuckles*

* * *

_You've got it all_   
_You lost your mind in the sound_   
_There's so much more_   
_You can reclaim your crown_

_[King - Lauren Aquilina](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dS5GfL9F7L4) _

* * *

Apparently when you're a renowned artist and author, you don't get to die without the whole world knowing about it.

It's difficult to forget about someone's death when it was all over the news. Living in the 20s also meant it's everywhere online, so you couldn't really get away from it.

Annabeth learnt this the hard way. She had always known about how quickly things could go viral of course, but she had no idea Athena Noctua's passing would turn into such a heated discussion online. She checked her social media the morning before school to be bombarded by various headlines about the famous writer. There were discussions about the death being potentially fake, because apparently, the woman had a flair for dramatics. Some even questioned if the cause of death was hidden for a reason too, and if the reason was a valid one or the author had something to hide. Annabeth realized she didn't know the cause either. That would be something for her to ask her father later.

What made it even worse was the fact that Annabeth had only learnt the woman's first name the day before, at the funeral. All her life her father had referred to her mother as 'Noctua', never 'your mother'. He'd never outright said it, but Annabeth was smart enough to know that it was because he didn't believe her mother deserved to be called, well, _her mother_.

She didn't even know how well known her mother was, along with the books she wrote. As she walked to school, she did a quick research of just that. It turned out that the woman was well known for her fictional works of myths and legends, something Annabeth had yet to take any interest in. Her father's influence caused her to be a girl with a keener interest in the now and things that actually existed, so the idea of indulging in a competely made-up world had never crossed her mind before.

Her life felt like a fairytale too, sometimes. She came to her father in a rather fancy cradle covered in intricate carvings of woodland creatures and floral patterns. A large owl face was designed at both ends of the cradle, Annabeth's name decorating the center. Her father sold it after she got too big for it, but he saved pictures for her. It was obviously a luxury to have something like that made, and it was the first tip to Annabeth that the woman was affluent. When she was little, she felt like a princess to have owned such a thing. Now, it all felt so surreal.

It hurt to think that her mother had abandoned her when the woman was perfectly capable of taking care of her. She had simply given Annabeth up because she didn't want to take care of her, not because she was financially struggling.

Or, perhaps, now with the new information about her fame in the picture, she did it to save face.

Annabeth wasn't sure what she felt about that.

It was extra hard to deal with at school too. Everywhere she went, students were buzzing about the news. Some even cried. Apparently they had grown up with Athena Noctua's writing and illustrations. It was ironic, Annabeth thought, that she never found the similar sort of comfort when the author was quite literally the person that gave birth to her.

So she spent the day avoiding everyone, even her group of friends. Percy doesn't read much, so everything about the celebrity passing was apparently news to him as well. Jason was devastated, which was a surprise because Annabeth hadn't pegged him for a fiction fan - while Leo said something about having only just joining the 'fairytale vibe'. He seemed sad enough for Annabeth to assume she doesn't want to be anywhere near him. Hazel chose to go on a binge read, carrying a book everywhere to read whenever she got the chance. Frank was fairly new to it, more so than Leo, so he wasn't as upset. It unnerved Annabeth how he simply would not stop talking about the illustrations in the books, however.

Annabeth would've stuck with Percy if it wasn't for the fact that he'd instantly notice that something was off with her, so she avoided him too. Aside from him, Piper was the most unaffected. She wasn't big into reading, and though she was familiar with the books, the death didn't hit her as hard as it did most anyone else. She seemed to accept it pretty quickly, and Annabeth wished she could do the same.

Thankfully, it wasn't the main topic of conversation in class. The only time it was mentioned was when a teacher asked her classmates to refrain from any talk of the author. Annabeth was thankful for that. It made classes more bearable when the subject was less on her mind. Though if she was honest with herself, it never really left her mind.

School went by in a hazy blur, with Annabeth doing her best to focus so time would pass by faster and she'd be able to get out of there and back home in her room, where her thoughts were loudest. Then maybe she'd be able to pull it all apart and rearrange everything in her brain until it all made sense.

She really needed everything to make sense.

However, what she found herself doing once she returned home only complicated her thoughts more.

She'd walked into her room, tossed her phone down because it just won't shut up all day and it slid right underneath her bed, bumping against a solid object. Annabeth always kept the space under her bed clean, except for one box full of things she always preferred to never look at. This caught her attention, and she stared at the woodland design on her comforter long and hard before ducking down and tugging the box out of its hiding place.

The box was taped shut. In fact, it was covered in layers of tape from all side and corners as it had been ripped open several times before getting put back together again. She grabbed a pocket knife from her table and ran it through where the tape concealed the original opening. It was so thick she had to do it three more times before the flap could open with ease.

Inside, various trinkets she'd received over the years lay cluttered together in a heap, looking very much like a bunch of old junk one would find at a yard sale. Most of it were carefully crafted owl-themed objects that held an old, musty feel. There was an owl candle holder, an owl pencil holder, owl earrings, a decorated wooden book stand, a compass with an owl design on it, a hand mirror and several others she had completely forgotten about from her earlier years. The first ever was a blue Yankees cap, now faded, one that came with Annabeth herself the day she was left at her father's doorstep.

It was an odd thing to give to a baby, especially if no one knew the story behind it. As it turned out, it was the exact cap her mother wore when she first met her father.

Since then, she got something in the mail every year for her birthday. She always knew who it was from, despite the name and address of the sender was never revealed. All the gifts came with an initial and a last name engraved into it. Her mother's.

The longer Annabeth spent taking each item out and looking them over, the more her hands shook.

Then her entire body trembled.

Her eyes felt wet and then everything was misty and foggy and-

And oh god, was she crying?

She shook her head. Annabeth never cries.

With perfect timing, her bedroom door burst open, revealing a her very bubbly friend. Piper, messy hair looking like its been blown back by the wind and her heterochromia eyes twinkling with excitement.

"Babe! You won't believe-" Seeing Annabeth's state, Piper stopped herself, surprised. "Annabeth? Hey, what's wrong?"

She made a beeline for the bed, throwing an arm around the blond's shoulders. Annabeth didn't respond immediately. When she did, she took one look at her friend's concerned face and crumpled further. Piper did this sometimes. She'd just barge into Annabeth's room, never informing her in advance, and just start talking her ear off about all the exciting circumstances in her day.

Piper found the most mundane things exhilarating. She was sentimental like that. She held everything and everyone she had close. She made the most out of everything, unlike Annabeth. Percy, her other best friend, held this kind of emotional connection to people too.

Not for the first time, Annabeth found herself wondering how she managed to grab hold of such fervent empaths as friends.

Soon, both girls found themselves curled into each other in the bed, Piper having had laid her friend down at some point. Annabeth had taken the form of a sobbing ball, her knees up to her chest and her arms hugging herself tight. Piper just wrapped her arms around the girl protectively, holding her close to her chest, willing the broken body to stop shaking so much. She struggled to not cry along. It hurt her to see her friend in such a state. Nothing ever makes Annabeth cry.

After what felt like hours, the shaking soothed itself and Annabeth limited herself to silent tears. Her friend - and room intruder - pulled herself away to look at her, brushing away a few stray curls sticking to her face. Her expression was unreadable, holding by a deep frown and thoughtful gaze. Annabeth was almost sure it was sympathy, but she couldn't remember the last time someone cared enough - or had seen her vulnerable - to give her a sympathetic look, so she was uncertain.

"Hey." Piper said softly.

Annabeth closed her eyes. She didn't need to see her face. It was too much effort trying to figure out what her friend was feeling.

She felt Piper stroke her hair. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She sniffed, hoping she didn't look too gross at the moment. "I don't know."

Hands raked through her untamed hair. "That's okay. Take your time."

"What did you want to tell me?" Annabeth asked, hoping to shift the topic to something else. She knew Piper was stubborn enough to want to press on what was clearly bothering her, but she was hoping her friend would take the bait regardless.

Piper hummed. "Just everything that happened on my date."

"Oh yeah?" Annabeth could vaguely remember Piper telling her something about Jason taking her out after school. She'd forgotten about it until now. She shifted a bit and wrapped her arms around Piper's neck, finally returning the hug. Piper dropped her head onto Annabeth's.

"Yeah." She twirled a finger around a strand of blond, focusing on how Annabeth had started relaxing against her. She would be lying if she hadn't panicked, just for a little bit, when she saw her friend breaking down. Usually she was the one being comforted.

Annabeth, despite her claims of being terrible with emotions, was a very good listener. She often offered helpful advice, always having some wisdom to share. It was what her rational mind was good for. As incompetent she thought she was with processing emotions, her organized mind does leave room for empathize.

Piper would even go far as to joke that she was her own personal therapist.

To lighten the mood, Piper started telling her how her amazingly her date went. Apparently Jason put a damper on it for a while, but then he pulled himself together and told her he'll give her the enjoyable date he promised her. They had ice cream, talked and went to see a movie. It sounded so simple, but Piper talked about it like her boyfriend had taken her on a vacation to the Bahamas.

"He got me this." She held up a small rose-shaped keychain that probably costed like two bucks to get at a giftshop. Annabeth loved her friend's joy over the simplest things. Piper had grown up with a father that never went small, giving her everything she thought she needed without actually sparing the most valuable of all; his attention and time. When she met Jason, he listened to all her random rambles and gave her all of his attention when she needed it. He gifts her small things when they go out, things that he didn't think much of but meant the world to Piper, because it was like a solid evidence of the time they spent together. She was just that sentimental.

Annabeth smiled at item Piper had probably been itching to show her since she got there. "That's pretty, Piper."

"Yeah." She said dreamily. "It is."

Then she tucked it back into her pocket and gave Annabeth a squeeze.

"Don't think I've forgotten." She said in a low voice. it sounded almost threatening. Almost.

"I'm fine, Piper." Annabeth lied.

"Babe." Piper said incredulously. "I'm not leaving here till I know for sure whatever's bothering you isn't going to keep bothering you."

Annabeth sighed.

Piper gave her a once over, pecking her forehead so Annabeth would look at her.

"Tell me?"

"I don't even know how to tell you. I kind of don't want to-"

"Nope, no. You don't get to do that." The brunette grabbed her shoulder. "Come on. You don't have to tell me everything. Just a little bit so I can maybe understand, alright?"

"So everything."

Piper rolled her eyes. "Just don't bottle it all up, Annabeth. You can't pretend you don't have emotions forever."

She sighed, bumping her forehead against Piper's. "I'm not a robot, Pipes."

Annabeth leaned back, resigning herself to her friend. Piper had seen her cry, and she knew the stubborn girl would not be letting it go anytime soon. "I'll show you what was on my mind."

She sat up, reaching over to where the recently unboxed objects lay, picking up an old compass and passing it to Piper. Piper's fingers traced over the design, stopping at the name carved on it.

 _A. Noctua_ , it read.

"Are these merch or something? I didn't know you're a Noctua fan. I thought you're into those history documentaries about building and paleontology things. Didn't dig you for the fairytale sort."

"Archeology." Annabeth corrected her. "Dinosaurs _are_ interesting though."

Piper looked at her, and Annabeth realized she hadn't answered her question.

"These aren't merch." She explained. "They're gifts my mother sent me over the years, every July 12th since my second birthday."

She remembered being a little girl, running home from school because her father forgot to pick her up again, and was welcomed by the sight of a parcel hidden inside a large empty vase by the doorstep. Every year, on that exact date. Never a day later, never day earlier. She was hopeful then, thinking that maybe it was a promise. As she got older, she stopped waiting around for something that was never going to happen. She'd found a box and threw all the gifts in, ripping it open every year just to add a new addition to the stash. Then it was taped back, to be forgotten for another year.

"Your mother?" Piper looked confused. It was understandable, because in their friend group, it was common knowledge that Annabeth never had one. They knew Annabeth was abandoned by her mother as a baby and that the woman was still alive somewhere, but that was it. "You mean she actually contacts you?"

"Yes and no. Um, she never actually gave me a way to say or send anything back, so -" She shifted uncomfortably, unconsciously putting a little distance between herself and Piper. "Every year, I receive something on my birthday. It's always a package with no return address. Sometimes it would come with a Happy Birthday card with the price tag still on." She laughed half-heartedly. "I never keep those. I always get angry and burn it at the stove."

Piper nodded. She would get mad too if her mother couldn't be bothered to do the simplest thing, like write 'Happy Birthday' on a plain sheet of paper.

"I'm sorry I never told anyone." Annabeth said. "It always felt so stupid and I just hate that she does this, and I can't help feeling like I'm some kind of joke. Or maybe she's ashamed of me or just wanted to feel entitled to something."

"I wouldn't have laughed at you."

"I know you won't." Annabeth said quickly. "It's... complicated."

Piper placed her hands on Annabeth's, hoping the support she wanted to offer managed to flow through to her very core. She nodded her understanding.

"So what brought this on?" Piper asked. She gestured to Annabeth's gifts. "You taking all these things out... did something happen?"

Annabeth sighed. "You know. The thing everyone's been talking about all day."

"You mean Athena Noctua? The writer?" She frowned, realizing that Annabeth was giving her pieces to put together. It was easier to hand Piper facts instead of being blunt about everything. Annabeth often found comfort in that. It made her feel like she was in control. She just hoped Piper would be able to figure it all out on her own.

Piper's head snapped up in the midst of her thinking.

"Wait, her name." She looked back to the compass she had put aside, the carved _A. Noctua_ glaring up at her with so much more intensity than it had been previously. It had to be a coincidence.

She decided the famous author's passing simply reminded Annabeth of her mother, for they shared the same surname and first initial.

"I'm sure it's just a pseudonym." She said, waving her hand dismissively.

Annabeth knew it wasn't. "It's not."

"How do you know that?"

"Who puts a pseudonym on their tombstone?" She spat out in frustration before she could stop herself.

"Hang on." Piper looked like she was constructing something in her mind, stacking some facts together. Barely half a minute passed when she decided to shake her head and demanded an explanation instead. _How impatient._ "What are you talking about?"

Annabeth hoped to avoid telling anyone about what went down the day before. Clearly that wasn't what the universe had in mind for her.

"We went there. My dad, his fiancé... we found out early in the morning and got on the next flight. Which was, surprisingly, available within the hour..." She frowned. It just dawned on her how convenient and smoothly the trip went. "Anyway it was about two hours flight. We were early for the funeral, and I saw it all through."

Piper stared at her. Really stared at her. As if she'd just seen Annabeth from a whole new light.

"Oh my god." Her friend's eyes were blown wide. "She's - _was_ your mother."

She knew Piper was perceptive.

"Oh my god." She said again when the blond didn't say anything. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay." Annabeth's smile was weaker. Then she said what she'd been telling people and, mostly, what she'd been telling herself. "I didn't know her."

"Still... Annabeth. Babe. Gosh." Piper cursed under her breath. "Do you - do you need another hug?"

Since when had she ever needed to ask for Annabeth's permission?

"I don't need one." Annabeth said as casually as she could manage, as if she hadn't just dropped the biggest, potentially life-changing bomb in her life to one of her best friends. "But you look like you do."

"God, and you went to school and had to deal with.. everyone... _all that_..." Piper shook her head in exasperation. She pulled Annabeth rather roughly to her chest, practically hugging the other girl's head. "I'm sorry. I should've paid more attention. You were so quiet today! I should've said something."

"It's okay." The blond reached up a hand and patted her arm. Piper reluctantly released her.

"So." Piper gestured to the owl-themed trinkets scattered all around the bed. "Do you think these mean something?"

"I think so." Annabeth picked up a small owl pencil holder, completely and perfectly carved with every single intricate detail presenting itself in a stunning form of art. It would be so easily overlooked, she thought. Some parts were carved deeper to present darker shades of color. It was a stroke of pure genius. Most of the other items from the box were made out of wood, several of iron and one thing in particular she could swear was made of solid gold. It was a hand mirror, though instead of owls, snake designs circled the handle and several more sprouted out of the head of a woman at the back of the mirror. If her memory served her right - it was the head of the Greek myth, gorgon Medusa. It startled her, just a little.

One thing the items all had in common was the name - her _mother's_ name - carved into it each of it, where it was well hidden but visible.

_A. Noctua._

"I think they're all a family heirloom." Annabeth said softly. Piper placed down the compass she was holding and took her friend's hand to squeeze.

"Shall I call you Annabeth Noctua from now on?" She grinned mischievously. "It's got a sort of... ancient ring to it."

Annabeth scoffed. "You're calling _me_ old, when you didn't know to knock or ring the doorbell first before coming in?" She stopped, suddenly remembering something. "How did you get inside my house anyway?"

Her friends, particularly Percy, Piper and Jason, came over so frequently Annabeth had gotten into the habit of never locking her front door when she was home. Occasionally she would, when she didn't want to be visited and had something to do, or when she just felt like it. In hindsight, Annabeth always felt leaving the door unlocked had pros that outweighed its cons. The neighborhood was safe enough, and everyone knew where everyone lived. Plus she was often home alone, so it felt necessary to make her house easily accessible in the scene of an accident. Today, she was sure she locked it.

Besides, her father made sure she learnt self defense.

"Well, see, _grandma_ ," Piper began smugly. "I happen to know where you keep your secret key."

"My secret key." Annabeth deadpanned.

"Yep. Under the rug, so it's so easy for _young_ robbers like us to break in and break your old woman hearts."

"Oh right, because you are simply _glowing_ with youth."

This earned her a very obnoxious and very fake gasp from Piper. "Says the oldie with a primordial design for her bedroom! Who does that? _On purpose?_ "

"You're just yet to achieve that level of maturity."

They laughed, and the weight in the air lifted. Afterwards, Piper helped Annabeth repack her gifts and they shoved it back under the bed. Piper wanted to ask why her friend had to hide and pretend none of it existed, but thought it was best avoided for the time being.

The rest of the evening flew by with the two committing to what Piper called 'girl time'. They considered inviting Hazel, another close friend they shared, or some other friends of Annabeth's like Thalia and Reyna. But then they decided it was best to keep it a small party just so they wouldn't have to dodge any bullets. They did standard girl things; nail painting, hair styling, movie watching and, best of all; prank calling.

Surprisingly, Annabeth had been the one to suggest the activity, one that Piper was only too thrilled to oblige. They used Dr. Chase's home phone so that no one would recognize the number.

Their first victim was Piper's boyfriend, Jason. Annabeth used a deep, gruff voice with a rather sloppy French accent to conduct a survey. Jason answered all of her questions regarding his phone functionality easily, until the questions slowly became ridiculous as the call dragged on. Annabeth went from asking about his internet connection strength to 'if you could fly would you try to race an airplane'. Three strange questions later, Jason picked up on the prank and promptly hung up.

The next target was Percy, though the prank quickly backfired when Percy revealed that he actually had Dr. Chase's home phone number saved in his contacts. He went along with the prank at first, but he was unable to hold onto his laughter and ruined his own pretense. Piper hung up on him.

They didn't have the heart to call Hazel or Frank, because the two would likely believe anything the two girls would make up, and Reyna would just hang up on them. So they settled with a few random classmates that Annabeth knew would appreciate a good joke.

Piper had never been prouder of Annabeth.

Their evening ended after another movie and some snacks. Piper's father wouldn't let her stay over on a school night, so she had to leave when his car arrived to take her home.

Before Piper left, she turned at the doorway and tugged at Annabeth's sleeve, getting her attention.

"Hey."

Smiling, Annabeth responded easily. "Yeah?"

"I love you, okay?" Piper pursed her lips. The concerned look from some hours ago returned. "Seriously."

Her heart felt a million times lighter.

"Okay."

A foolish part of her hoped it would all go up from there.

* * *

_You're in control_   
_Rid of the monsters inside your head_   
_Put all your faults to bed_   
_You can be king again_

_[King - Lauren Aquilina](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dS5GfL9F7L4)_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First stage of grief: Denial.  
> Annabeth putting the box back where it was is an instinctual reaction. She'd gotten so used to securing it back after cutting it open, as if she would be opening it again to put a new thing in soon. At the back of her mind, she knew she won't be opening it ever again to put something in.
> 
> Chose the name Noctua as Athena's last name because of the species Little Owl, also known as the Owl of Minerva. Its scientific name is Athene Noctua and I was like huh, that sounds pretty - I'm using that. So I did lol  
> I originally considered naming Athena Minerva instead to mix it up a little, but Athena feels closer to Annabeth (especially since Annabeth's name is made out of acronyms from Athena's name) It feels too important to leave out.
> 
> Athena Noctua in this story is partially inspired by Enid Blyton, who, during her time, was really important to kids. She wrote fairy tales, mysteries, adventure stories, you name it. She wrote so much people didn't believe it was actually her at times. Blyton's books are still enormously popular, and have been translated into 90 languages. I'm not saying Athena's cause of death is the same - I choose to leave that open for interpretation. Athena does most things on her own in this, including creating her own illustrations for her books, which explains where most of her time went to.
> 
> You could say she got no life. Oof.
> 
> Also, no, no shipping here. Maybe friendshipping though yeah. I'm just a strong believer in 'girl power' and I love the idea of strong girls occasionally needing other strong girls to help build themselves up and just, be better than ever. We need no bois yo.
> 
> I adore Annabeth and Piper's friendship in canon, and how so supportive they are of each other.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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